I've had a profound interest in the Civil Rights movement since the 1960s, and it's an ever-present thorn in my side that I've never found the courage to be an activist. This morning I commented to Kelli, my younger daughter, that I'd slept extra late today when I could have been out marching in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
"Well," she replied, "did you at least have a dream?"
Yeah, I did. But not an important one. The big dreams come when I'm wide awake. Now all I need is a backbone.